Dark of Night
by Kate Christie
Summary: "The heat of her mouth could wake him from the dead." Maybe not your typical post-ep for "Driven." (7x01) Thanks to Alex (caffinate-me) AND Joy (International08) for beta, but all blame falls to me for this one.


Holy-

"Kate."

He had been sound asleep ever since she tucked herself into his chest under the covers and nuzzled into his collarbone, the mess of her half-curled hair lining up with his shoulder, cheek and chin. The smell of her hair could put him to sleep in the middle of a riot, the epicenter of an earthquake, ground zero of a nuclear holocaust.

But the heat of her mouth could wake him from the dead.

And he was awake.

Eyes open and roving, he took in the early morning hour from the clock beside his bed.

"Kaaaaate."

He couldn't see her, but her lips had found the tender spot on his ribs, before dipping lower, until her tongue laved into his navel, slow, methodical, unrelenting.

When she had finished crying against his chest hours before, her request to sleep in his arms had not been a shock. He wasn't really up to anything more.

But apparently whatever had woken her at 3AM had been inspiring.

The tip of her nose traced down, down, down, and then her breath was heating his flesh. He let out a strangled sob when she took him, still only half-hard, inside her mouth. His eyes slammed shut at the hot, wet suction, and he felt his arousal grow until he nudged at the back of her throat.

Humming, she wrapped her fingers gently at his base and stroked, encouraging the instinct of his hips to thrust.

As his stomach muscles contracted, he felt a twinge along his ribcage. His body certainly seemed to remember every day of the 8 weeks he had been missing.

The thought of her alone, missing him for two months in this cold bed, flashed before his closed eyelids, her tears on repeat, and he had to stop.

Reaching under the edge of the sheet, he threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged gently away.

"Beckett, stop. You need to-"

Releasing him with a "pop," she surfaced from beneath the covers, climbing his body as she licked her lips.

"It's okay. Just let me do all the work."

Oh, but she misunderstood, thought it was his body that needed-

And then she was astride his hips, all naked skin and endless, sexy legs and tiny waist, rising up, sinking down, sheathing him in one quick motion.

Her gasp echoed in the now-silent bedroom as her body clenched and then slowly relaxed around him.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine. It's just - been a while."

God, he could not do this. Not when his fingers could find every rib as his hands stroked up her sides; not when he could taste the salt of her tears as she leaned down to finally, gently meet his lips. He was the reason for all that sadness, the loss, the mourning.

But then her limbs were winding around him, her scent invading his nose, her breasts grazing his chest, and she was moving, picking up an unsteady, desperate rhythm. And he couldn't bring himself to stop her. He let her sink and rise, hips circling tight against his with every stroke, building herself up until her whole body trembled around him.

"Rick-"

Kate let out a shuddering breath against his ear and then buried her face in the curve of his neck, teeth latching on wherever they landed. Close. She was so close.

He could at least give her this.

Gripping her hips, he surged up into her, drew out a string of escalating cries from her lips as he did what he knew would send her over the edge. He didn't stop when her back arched, every muscle tensed to spring; kept going when she held her breath for that final moment, hit the glorious point of no return.

The first flutters surrounded him as she finally gulped in air and then let it out on his name, and still he kept going, let the slick clench and release of her climax subside before he rolled her beneath him on the mattress and disengaged.

Tears obscuring his vision, he rolled away and made for the bathroom, locking the door and falling to his knees just in time to empty his stomach into the porcelain bowl.

When there was nothing left, he sank to the floor, his flaming cheek pressing into the smooth, cold plane of marble.

In the light of day, he could look her in the eye, say the words, make her believe. But here? He wasn't a good enough liar.


End file.
